Don't Fear
by siren of titan
Summary: Set during DH, sort of AU. Hidden feelings and moments between R/HR that totally changes their story... song at the beginning speaks for Ron's feelings in Particular for Hermione and kind of sets up the feel for the story. Please read and review!Thanx
1. Chapter 1

_Live Again- Better than Ezra_

_Don't fear,  
Even though you're at a loss.  
I'm numb,  
A shell of empty thoughts.  
But you glow,  
You stretch and pull me out.  
Does that trouble you?  
Does that trouble you?  
Love me  
Hate me  
Make me live again  
I need you around  
Heal me  
Hurt me  
Make me live again  
I want you around  
So long,  
I never had experienced  
This bliss.  
So how could I resist?  
And i'm fine  
A little light-headed.  
Does that worry you?  
I didn't mean to worry you.  
Now, retreating from the light  
I love it when we fight  
It makes me think  
At least you still care  
Give up, you're not going anywhere  
Moonlight, illuminates your stare  
And it's great, captivating you  
Does that trouble you?  
I didn't mean to trouble you_

**Chapter One: Just To Be Near Her**

Hermione followed Ron's cue and dropped herself down next to him on the sofa. "They're all right, they're all right!" she whispered with excited relief. The silver Patronus was now completely dissolved, leaving only the stale, still air of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in its wake. She had placed her hands on his arm instantly when she sat beside him, needing to feel his warmth and connect herself to him. A small chuckle escaped his lips as relief washed over him. His family was safe. _They_ were safe. He felt like he could finally breathe again and sitting there, letting the moment sink in, he grew more aware of the heat generating from Hermione's hands. It filled him up with such a wonderful feeling he couldn't help but pull her into him, in a tight embrace, amplifying the sensation. Thoughts ran through his mind: of his family, the wedding, the death Eaters, but none so much as the citrusy smell of Hermione's shampoo or the feel of her body pressed to his, as he held her to him. He refused to release her as he began his apology to Harry, savoring the moment. Hermione did the same, taking refuge in Ron's arms. The vibration of Ron's words tickled her ear, teasingly, and she had to stifle a moan that threatened to escape her lips.

As Ron released her, Hermione instantly felt a sense of loss. Uncertainty and frightful thoughts began to subtly attack her mind, and as embarrassed as she was to ask, she knew she would not get a wink of sleep in this dingy old house, filled with its ancient hatred, alone. "I don't want to be on my own tonight. Could we use the sleeping bags I've brought and camp in here tonight?" she said as blasé as possible, not wanting the boys to already regret bringing along a silly girl, who couldn't even sleep on her own.

To her great relief Ron didn't seem a touch annoyed with her question, smiling as he told her, "Course we can." She was, however, caught by surprise, her smile slipping into an anxious frown, as Harry muttered something about a bathroom and ran out trying to hide a pained look on his face.

"It's his scar again," she said unhappily, her brow furrowing. It wasn't a question or a guess. She moved to go investigate.

Ron caught her arm lightly and said, "Why don't you give him a minute, just in case it really is just the bathroom he was looking for?" Hermione blushed and adverted her eyes from his gaze. She noticed that there had been a hint of unease in Ron's eyes as he spoke, though he seemed to be teasing her. _He was probably just concerned about Harry like myself_, she ventured.

"Right," she said dumbly, letting it drop. Ron watched her carefully. _She always fretted over Harry. Perhaps her feelings for him were simply stronger and deeper. Did she ever get so worked up over me?_ he wondered morosely. But his mind instantly traced back to the night they retrieved Harry. How she had lunged at him so desperately. The panic in her voice and the tightness of her hold were not something he could have misunderstood. The way her body seemed to tremble beneath his as he swallowed her up in his arms, he fought to remember now, casting away doubt of her nonexistent feelings. _Maybe I still looked like him; the potion probably hadn't faded just yet. It was just her feelings for Harry transferred onto me, briefly_, Ron thought bitterly, growing more deflated by the second. Ron stared off, pondering Hermione's heart, when suddenly her voice snapped him back to reality.

"Er—what?"

"Take a seat. I want to examine your legs," she told him in a very businesslike manner. Ron, flustered at first, looked down to see what she was going on about.

"I'm really sorry," she said apologetically, pulling at the rip in his jeans to get a better look at the damage. She hoped he didn't see her hands shaking.

"It's not so bad. We were lucky. How those guys found us..." he trailed off, mystified. He leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes, and she watched him take a couple deep breathes, and wondered what he was thinking about. Remembering herself, she went into her bag and pulled out a little blue bottle. She began dabbing very gently over the cuts. His leg burned at the touch and he winced, sitting forward.

"Sorry," she said again, regretfully and, without thinking, bent forward blowing gently against the cut, like her mother did to her when she was a child and scrapped her knee. But Hermione was not his mother and Ron was not a child. Her actions sent an electric current through his entire body, arousing every part of him. She seemed to catch herself and clumsily finished dabbing the potion as quickly as she could. He sat very still as she finished, afraid that he would not be able to control himself. For a brief second he thought of sitting on his hands to keep him from attacking her with kisses. But the idea of what she would do if he ever tried something like that was enough to stop him; the horror and shock he would see on her face, the way her arms and body would pull away from him- recoiling from him like he was no better than McLaggen.

"I'm going to see how Harry is doing," she said as soon as she was done with his leg.

_See_, he thought, _as soon as she can she rushes to Harry's side. She only stayed as long as she did because she left sorry for cutting me up. Why do I let my imagination run wild, like this?_ he wondered hopelessly, the feel of her breath against his skin still very fresh in his mind. _Maybe I can make her see; if she could just see I'm not that same little first year, hell, same sixth year for that matter, who took for granted the fortune of her presence_. He got up then and began fixing the sleeping bags, purposely, but inconspicuously, putting Harry's just a tad further from theirs. Then he began rearranging the cushions onto the floor, to construct a bed for Hermione to sleep on.

"What are you doing?" a bemused Hermione asked, as Hermione and Harry reentered.

"I'm making your bed," he replied pointedly, continuing his work, unfazed.

"You don't need to go to all that trouble, really Ron."

"No trouble," He said, trying to sound as offhand about it as possible.

"All right, then." A curious smile played at her lips. "I'll just go change, then," she said and began to walk away. She paused, and turned back saying,"Thank you." Her smile more prominent now. Ron just nodded, but Harry could see him smiling as he smoothed out the blankets once more.

Ron heard the bathroom door open and moved to take his turn getting ready for bed. He met her in the hallway where they exchanged awkward smiles upon seeing each other. Ron's eyes, of their own according, or perhaps working for another appendage, glided downward, taking in every inch of her. He hoped she hadn't noticed, as he quickly pulled them back up to meet her soft brown eyes. They both moved to slide past each other, turning their bodies to allow them both to fit through the narrow corridor. Ever so slightly, as they passed, Ron felt a certain part of Hermione brush up against him and it seemed as though time itself slowed_. Bloody Hell_, he thought madly, as the image of him suddenly pinning her up against the wall and capturing her mouth in a fervent kiss overwhelmed him.

Coming back from the bathroom, Ron found Hermione already in bed, but not asleep. It would just the two of them for a few minutes until Harry returned, and he wanted to make the most of it, but words could not escape him. Finally, he spoke, saying the only thing he could think of. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yes. Yes, thank you," she said softly. "I just can't see sleep coming over me anytime soon. Everything that happened today..."

"Try to concentrate on the good parts, maybe it will help," he replied thoughtfully. They began to recount the early events before the madness. Harry rejoined them, listening along. His own thoughts quickly traveled to a certain redheaded girl in a beautiful and, as Aunt Muriel put it, low cut dress.

In the darkness Hermione concentrated on Ron's voice as he admitted the fear he felt—hearing the panic-filled screams and disturbing shouts— as chaos erupted before his eyes. "I just had to get to you. That's all I could think about. Getting to you—and harry," he amended, feeling too honest in the safety of the dark night.

"I called out your name," she added with tenderness in her voice.

"I saw you. I could see you from across the way. All those people running about, obscured my view, blocked my path to you. It felt like forever before I finally made it..."

"And then you were there. You took my hand…" she said, bravely reaching for his hand now, "…and I felt like, in that instant, I knew everything was going to be all right." Ron gripped her hand in his. He whispered, so low that Hermione wasn't sure he said it or she imaged it in the darkness, "I'll never let anything happen to you, Hermione."

*** *** ***

**Two Nights Later-**

It was her first night sleeping alone in Grimmauld Place, and for all her effort to rearrange and tidy up the room, it still creeped her out. The image of Mrs. Black made her shudder and she snapped her eyes open, trying to adjust them to the darkness.

"Lumos," she whispered, flicking her wand and then picked up a book that sat on the table next to her bed. She read for a few pages, but grew tired of it quickly. Even Hermione Granger gets tired of reading sometimes. She looked at the clock. It was past one. Her eyes felt heavy, but as soon as she closed them the dark images crept back in. It had a lot to do with what Remus told them on his surprise visit earlier that night. They were going after Mudbloods, rubbing them out, like stains on a shirt. If they got their hands on her, what would they do? If she had gone to Hogwarts this year, where would she be right now? It made her head spin to think of all the dreadful possibilities.

"Oh. Darn," she sighed, frustrated as her book slipped away for her onto the floor. She got up to retrieve it before the pages got permanent lines in them from being folded over. She carried it over to the dresser and placed it down. She peered up at the wall, something there catching her eye. Even in the dimness of the room she could just make out a picture hanging there of herself, Ron, and Harry that she recognized was just taken on Harry's birthday. In it, she had her arms strung around both Ron and Harry's shoulders. They were smiling happily. She pulled out her wand to examine it closely, her eyes focusing mostly on Ron. She couldn't help but admire how much he'd grown over the years. His piercing blue eyes stared back at her devastatingly, his boyish grin playing with her heart. She wondered if it was him or Harry who had placed the picture there. "It must have been him," she said out loud, as if it would make it truer by doing so. But it made sense that it had been Ron who placed it there. It was him, more-so, then Harry who helped her clean this place up, made it tolerable to sleep in.

He seemed to sense her reservations, saying, "Don't worry, I'll be right down the hall," as he walked her to her room for the night. It was a comfort to know, but not as great as it had been those last few days, having him right there with her, inches from her, hearing him breathe beside her. It filled her with an ease, a peace, which she was now lacking.

_Oh, pull yourself together, Hermione. You're not a child. He would think I was being ridiculous if he heard me now_, she thought, angry with herself. _Or would he?_ She remembered the tender, yet vehement look in his eyes.

"I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin…" he had said, and then with a fierceness, cutting her off, added, "…You won't have a choice." The words, even in her mind now, sent a deep shiver down her spine, but not one out of fear, no this was something all together different.

"I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin." The words sounded again in her mind and she thought of something which caused her to frown. _Cousin_, she thought, _is that how he sees me, like family, a little sister type, barely a girl in his eyes..._ she wondered miserably. She dropped herself back on the bed, tossing and turning, her brain unable to shut off.

"Oh, enough of this," she whispered hotly, kicking the covers off and sliding out of bed.

*

A slight crash woke Ron from his sleep and he hurried to investigate. He found the kitchen light on and wondered if Kreacher was doing some late night cleaning or if the Death Eaters, who somehow managed to find a way in, were just grabbing a bite to eat before they murdered the three of them in their sleep. Either way he gripped his wand, ready.

"Hermione! Bloody hell! What are you doing? It's past two in the morning."

"Oh! Ron," she gasped, her heart restarting as she whipped around to face him. "I couldn't sleep. I'm just making some tea. Would you like some?" she offered.

"Er, well, if you're making it. I mean I am up now..." he replied slowly, his eyes focused too closely to the way Hermione's hair fell wildly around her face….

"We should get back to bed." Ron let his mouth hang open in horror to what he just said, though it was truly a very innocent statement. "I mean, you get back to yours and me, mine..." he said fumbling over the words. Innocent statement indeed, but where his mind traveled when he said it was a different story. He picked up the empty cups and ran them over to the sink, hiding his reddening face.

"I was thinking I might look over a few of the notes first, but don't let me keep you."

"Hermione," he stated with a serious tone. He could sense she was avoiding going back to bed."You need your sleep. You can go through this stuff tomorrow."

"I just—"

"Tomorrow," he said firmly, gesturing for her to get going. She conceded and stood up. He could read the trepidation on her face. "Out with it, 'Mione. What's this all about?"

"Nothing—It's silly—I know."

"Hermione, come on, it's me. You can tell me."

"I just can't sleep in there. Every time I close my eyes…"—her voice got quiet and far away—"… I see them coming for me." She finished unable to meet his eyes.

"You're safe here. They won't get in." He squeezed her shoulder and gave a small smile, his hand lingering.

"I know I'm being ridiculous." She tried to laugh at herself, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Bollocks, that is. It's okay to be scared. We all are." The two stood there silently for a minute, and then Ron made a decision, without worrying about the consequences. The worst she could do is say no, or shriek away, either in laughter or horror, he thought, her comfort and happiness were more important to him and took precedence over the fear of her rejection. "Come on," he told her, leading the way to his room.

"Here—you take the bed," he said, grabbing a pillow and throwing it on the floor. He grabbed a blanket and began making a makeshift bed on the floor for himself. Hermione stared at him. She couldn't let him sleep on the floor. She was acting like a total baby and now he was going to suffer for it.

"Ron, stop. You're not sleeping on the floor. That's absurd."

" I don't mind, honestly," he said, continuing to straighten out the blankets. Hermione bite her lip, indecisively. She couldn't let him sleep on the floor, but she knew if she went back to that room she would never get any sleep.

"Come on, then, climb in," he told her stubbornly.

"Ron…this...You really..." she struggled for the right thing to say and then paused, surveying the bed. She didn't even know where the next sentence came from but, logically, looking at the bed she said, " We can both sleep on the bed. There is plenty of room, I mean, and how can I put you out like this just because I'm having a rough time with it." She was fighting a blush, wanting to seem casual after putting the suggestion out there. _What am I thinking, inviting myself into bed with him? What must he think?_ She thought horrified.

He stared at her for a moment, his face blank. It appeared to Hermione that he wasn't breathing; he was too still. The seconds seemed to stretch out before her and it took all her strength to keep from running out the door. She held her composure and waited.

"Er—yeah. I suppose we both...I mean if you don't have a problem with it..." She noticed his ears were red as he removed the bedding from the floor and replaced it on the bed. She watched him, realizing what it was that he was doing, as he put up a small wall, dividing the bed in two. Now she couldn't stop her blush from spreading. _Any boy who would go through that much effort to keep a girl away from him; I should have kept my big mouth shut. I should have stayed in my own room...Death Eaters don't sound so bad, right now._

Ron, in the meantime, was fighting one of his own internal battles. _Did I just hear her right? Hermione in my bed. I must be dreaming because this sort of thing only happens in my dreams. Oh no, what if..._ His mind drifted to possible things that might happen during the night when he was asleep. Things he didn't have control over. If she were to press up against him and he, without knowing it..._Oh, she would think I'm the biggest pervert. I'd never be able to look her in the eye..._ He began to quickly assemble a barrier to keep things from turning to the worst.

Even still having Hermione sleep inches from him, seeing her chest rise and fall in the dark, listening to the rhythm of her breathing, if this was the most he would get on that avenue with Hermione, he'd take it. Just to be near her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2___ His Entirely

It continued like this night after night in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Hermione would knock softly on the door and slip inside. He never needed to say anything, as he'd slide over to make room for her. The barrier was gone now, but Ron made sure to keep some distance between them. He was learning a lot about self restraint.

Tonight, Ron's mind raced. Tomorrow they would try the unthinkable. He only prayed it would work. Looking over at the beauty laying next to him his heart leapt out of his chest. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't let anything bad happen. _Oh, I wish she wouldn't be so stubborn about coming_, he thought, frustrated.Just then, she rolled into him, and his heart was on the verge of exploding with the acceleration of beats_. Don't get carried away, you git. She isn't interested in having a thing with you. This is purely a comfort thing for her. She just needs __**someone**_, he thought, remembering back to the first morning they woke up in his bed. "Please don't mention anything about last night to Harry. I mean I just don't want him to know—" she painfully explained.

"I get it, Hermione," he interrupted, trying not to sound offended, but not pulling it off. "I won't tell him a thing."

"I just mean..." she began flustered.

"It's fine, really. I don't want him knowing, either," he told her coolly, getting up with surprising quickness.

"Oh." Her voice was low. It sounded sad even, he thought. _Where the bloody hell does she get off being to the one...she's the one who asked..._

"I'll see what's there for breakfast. Sure wish Kretcher would hurry back," He had mumbled on his way out, trying to ignore the anxious look on her face.

His thoughts came back to the present and he lightly brushed his hand over her back, peering down at her. When she didn't seem to stir from it, he let his hand come to rest there, holding her in his arm. She nestled into his chest further and he wished he could make the moment stretch on for forever.

It was getting to the point that he couldn't wait till the sun went down, because that was when she was his entirely. The sound of the door knob turning was like music to his ears. But they never talked about it. During the day they kept busy; kept focused on their task at hand. Only on certain days, when Harry was off investigating the real world, under his cloak, or busy in his room, that they found themselves in any other compromising situations. They could place at least partial blame on the fact that they were going stir crazy in there, trapped in that house with very little to do but plan.

"Ron, if you click that thing one more time. I am going to chuck it out the window. I don't care who sees!" Ron remembered her threatening him one time as she sat sprawled out on the floor reading.

"I would like to see you try." His tone was both smug and amused. Without warning she leapt from the floor, pinning him down, while trying to grab the deluminator.

"Hermione! Are you mental?! Ge' off me," he yelped, as her shoulder knocked into his jaw.

"I don't care if Dumbledore gave it to go or not. Give it here!"

"Blimey, Hermione. Calm down. I was only having a laugh. I'll put it away."

"No! Let me hold onto it. Then I can be certain," she replied, still fighting him. Ron had had enough. He lifted her up with ease and threw her back down on the sofa, pinning her there with his arms.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to take things that aren't yours?" he asked, teasing her.

"Ronald Weasley! This isn't funny. Let me go!"

"Yeah, well, who started it? You were the one who couldn't keep her hands to herself, now," he reminded her, pretending for a moment to be serious, but cracking a smile half way through. His face lit up even more when her scowl suddenly turned up around the edges, not able to fight the smile any longer. And then as though a force beyond him was in control, staring into her deep brown eyes, her wild hair framing her face, her lips appearing so soft, he felt himself lean a bit closer. Hermione's face reached up towards his own. And then the door down the hall slammed open and Harry's voice bellowed in, breaking the two apart.

_Would she have kissed me back, then?_ he wondered, still holding her in the darkness. Regret engulfed him. _What if tomorrow was it? What if I never get the chance to tell her, to show her?_ he wondered drearily. He made a promise to himself that if they did make it out alive tomorrow he would show her exactly how he felt about her.

*** *** ***

Hermione sat on the outside of the tent trying to concentrate on the woods around her and see if there was any danger lurking about, her thoughts constantly driftedh back to Ron, only a few feet from her on the other side of the tent. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was getting better. The image of him laying there, after being Splinched, haunted her. _It's all my fault; Ron being hurt, not being able to go back, not being prepared here in the middle of nowhere...good job Hermione, _she thought sullenly. She wanted nothing more than to back inside and sit beside Ron, but she felt she had a lot to make up for and was determined to do one thing right. "Stupid Yaxley", she muttered to herself. _At least we got the locket...we managed to escape with it..and our lives_, she thought trying to look on the bright side.

When it was her turn again to give up guard duty, she felt a great sense of relief. Just being able to look at Ron and see that he really was there, and looking better by the hour, was a great comfort. But a comfort she felt rudely ripped away from when Harry started yelling in his sleep from outside the tent. Angrily, she relieved Harry, both mad at herself for where they were and at him for allowing the connection to continue.

*** *** ***

The presence of the locket weighed heavy on all three, even when it wasn't their turn to wear it. The tent was very close quarters and Ron found it impossible to get Hermione truly alone. Add to that his incessant hunger pangs and wearing the locket at least twice a day, and it was bound to have an awful effect on him, only helping to tear the three apart more. The more terrible things Ron said, and the more he wanted to take back, it seemed, the more he said, and the angrier he became. His belief in her having any feelings for him was wavering by the day, and he started seeing things happening between Hermione and Harry. He felt the only way to get her back was to prove Harry didn't know what he was doing; to fight dirty.

Sometimes she would agree with him and his assertions, but other times she would defend Harry, causing Ron to get more worked up. Whenever Harry happened to come in during one of these conversations they both got tight lipped quickly. Not all the conversations had to do with Harry. Somehow an innocent comment or topic would lead them to skirting around the issue of their relationship and feelings for one another. Increasingly, many of their secret conversations made little sense or had much of anything to do with their mission.

One day Ron came back from collecting some fire wood and found Hermione and Harry Huddled together, her arm around his him, and her head on his shoulder.

_So, this is how it is now. She chose him, or perhaps he finally decided to give her a shot, seeing as she's the only girl around. I bet Hermione just jumped at the chance to be with him. That's what she's been waiting for this whole time_, he thought gruffly to himself, stepping back out to take a walk. He hadn't seen the tears in her eyes.

What Ron had missed by walking into the tent when he did was the conversation that led to the hug.

"He's acting like a real git lately. Like he doesn't even care," Hermione said angrily.

"You can't blame him completely. This locket is driving us all mad."

"I just wish…"

"I know. He'll come around."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Harry. Here I am talking about Ron and he's right here. It must be hard not knowing where Ginny is or whether everything's..." Her voice trailed off. The two talked for a while, consoling each other and their pained hearts.

"Where is Ron, anyways? I better get this dinner going, if you can call it that," said Hermione, fixing herself up.

When Ron came back he found himself not very hungry and incapable of choking down the inedible mess in front of him. "My Mother can make good food appear out of thin air..." he stated grumpily, as though convinced with his own ludicrous statement. He needed a fight. He needed those two to admit they were secretly sneaking around behind his back.

Then it all happened so quickly. Listening to the conversation outside, hearing about his family, his sister, listening to Hermione and Harry carry on like that, as though he weren't even there. The way they looked at each other; their closeness. He had had enough. He lost it, running out of there in blind furry._ She chose him. She chose him. Not me. Him_, he thought angrily. But the helpless cry of his name from her lips, ripped into him, waking him up. She had begged him to come back. _What am I doing_, he thought, _I have to go back_. _I can't leave her, no matter what_. Fate, it seemed, had other plans and Ron found himself in a prickly situation, and had to think quickly. He would get back to her though somehow, as fast as he could. It wasn't even an option. He would make up for deserting her or he would die trying.

Of course it took longer to get back then he had hoped. He could feel them close to him, but he couldn't see them anywhere. Then finally, during another long night of waiting, he suddenly saw a sleek Patronus dance past him, and moments later Harry, himself, came in view. He didn't have much time to think, much less be excited, because Harry went into the water and failed to resurface….

"Herminone…There's someone here."

Ron could hardly hear Harry speak over the pounding of his heart. He was back. She was safe. He was seconds away from seeing her; all he had to do was step through the tent flap. He held his breathe and walked in, still dripping wet.

She came toward him slowly, a stoic look on her face. She stood directly in front of him, her eye wide and completely unmoving, as though frozen solid. Even through the cold he felt from the icy waters, his body began to heat up immensely in that moment. He began to be hopeful. _Maybe she missed me too much to be angry. Maybe she was just relived I was back._ He couldn't help but smile at the thought; his arms rose up, as though waiting for her to step inside them. And then she was punching him roughly, blindly, and in a rage, any place she could reach.

"You-complete- arse- Ronald- Weasley!" All he could do was cover himself with his hands and wait for her tirade to end. "Oh. Where's my wand?" He heard her ask and felt panic. Luckily, Harry stepped in to help him. Ron tried his best to explain what happened to him. Why he didn't come right back. He tried to apologize. It was hard though, Hermione looked quite demented and her voice was shrilled every time she went to interject. It was almost unbearable for him to hear what those two had gone through without him. It was like a knife in the heart to know how close Voldermort was to Hermione. _I should have been there to protect her. I was such a stupid git, going away like that. If something had happened..._ He couldn't even finish that thought.

He felt glad that Harry had been willing to back him up. He didn't feel he deserved it at the moment. Harry didn't say anything about what happened with the locket, which was a tremendous relief to Ron, as well. Hermione was in a rage and if Ron had to explain what he had seen, what had happened, she would have the power to destroy his heart with a few simple jabs. Harry's words from earlier came back to him and gave him some reassurance. _So they weren't carrying on together when he was away. He thought of her like a sister. That's all it ever was. She cried for me. She missed me_. As awful as he felt, the knowledge of this filled his heart till he felt his chest might burst. Even her little quip about the birds gave him some comfort that things would eventually get better between them. He couldn't help smile as he closed his eyes and pulled up his blankets, which he noticed smelled of citrus and soap, very Hermione-esque.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three____ Tangible Things

Hermione could not believe her eyes. She was dreaming, that was the only explanation. It was just another dream, like the ones before. But it felt so real this time. She slid out of bed and floated over to him, afraid that if she looked away he would disappear. Inside she was a mess, a full fledge battle of her own was waging. She wanted to run at him and throw her arms around him and never let go. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her madly. For a second she thought she might pass out, overwhelmed with who stood before her. _How did he get here? Why was he wet? Where did he get that sword? Is he hurt? Where has he been? WHERE HAS HE BEEN??? _The question ignited her. All her emotions ran together into fury. Instead of running into his arms, she launched herself at him, fists flying. If it wasn't for Harry she would have possible done something she would have regretted. She had just been so mad. He left her. He left her alone to go through all that. How could he love her if he was willing to risk that, she wondered angrily; the look on his face, dripping wet, standing before her, made her heart flutter, her anger draining. He looked desperate for her to forgive him... _NO! No, no, no_, she thought, not wanting to give in.

Yet, laying there in the tent she felt a desperate need of her own. She had been sleeping on Ron's cot since he left. The smell of his blankets and pillow were a small comfort to her. They helped bring Ron back to her, if only in her dreams. Now he was here, but a crazy fear seeped into her mind like he could at any moment disappear again. She would wake up in the morning and he would be gone, perhaps never there in the first place. She sneaked a glance his way. His eyes were closed and she turned her head to fully examine him. She couldn't help but love him, but she was so mad. Perhaps hurt was a more accurate word. She stared at him a while till even that wasn't enough. She got up quietly and tip toed over to him. She peered down, biting her lip indecisively.

*** *** ***

Ron felt the presence of someone watching over him in the darkness. He turned, blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness. After a couple seconds he could make out the bushy hair silhouette of Hermione Granger. He moved to sit up slightly on his arm. His lips parted to call out her name but no sound came. He felt like if he spoke it might wake him from whatever dream he was in or cause her to go away and he didn't want to either. He wondered for a second if she was standing there deciding which hex to use. _She probably thought of a few more snide remarks to tell me_, he thought at last, bracing himself for another row. She stood there silently and he waited for the wrath that never came. Instead Hermione pulled back the blankets, easing herself under them and into Ron's arms—that opened for her automatically— without a word. Ron was completely baffled by her actions. _Maybe I drowned in that pond or got knocked out. This can't be real, _he speculated, allowing Hermione to guide his hands so they were completely wrapped around her. Without a word between them, they laid like. Ron listened to the beating of their hearts and matched his breathing to hers as he watched her sleep, still in shock that it was even real. He watched her sleeping face, knowing he would never get enough of it, until he, himself, was out.

*

When Ron woke up he was alone in his bed. Harry was busy fixing something in the far end of the tent and Ron got up to investigate. "Where's Hermione?" He realized it was Harry's wand that held his attention.

"She left a note saying she was going to look for something to make for breakfast. I don't know how long she's been gone for, but I doubt she went far. Probably still needs to cool off a bit," he warned.

All through the day Hermione wouldn't so much as look at Ron. She only communicated through Harry. But Ron was determined. She wouldn't deter him from winning her back. Ron knew he had a lot of making up to do and he was resolved to do it right this time. Every day he was very careful and aware of Hermione. He knew when to stop pushing it and he knew when to try a little more, well, most of the time. There were times where he felt he almost got a smile out of her. She would rush away or make some sarcastic remark and he knew it was just to cover over what she really wanted to do or say. She was being stubborn but he couldn't blame her. He hoped she would forgive him, but he knew he would never forgive himself. Still, at night, after harry dosed off, Hermione would creep over to his bed and invite herself in.

Tonight, in his arms, Hermione suddenly shifted around and faced him. He could just make out her eyes in the darkness. Things had been changing the last couple weeks. The Hermione of the day time was not as sullen and cross as the Hermione in weeks past. She looked at him sometimes from the corner of her eye, when he was giving them a pep talk or bringing a new idea to the table. She looked captivated and pleased with his manner, which only made his convictions stronger. He could even get her to hold small conversations alone without Harry. Sometimes, in triumph he even made her laugh. It was like a huge burden was being lifted. She looked at him know, her lips slightly parted. _Maybe she was going to finally mention the kiss_, he thought, holding his breath waiting with anticipation.

The kiss could not have come at more inopportune moment. Ron really didn't know what came over him. Well, no, that wasn't completely true he admitted to himself. They had all ventured out the day after his return to look for mushrooms and things. It was difficult because part of him was so ecstatic. Someone had helped them. They had been able to destroy another Horcrux, he had destroyed it in fact. It was a rush. He was there, back with Harry and Hermione. _Hermione!_ he thought, just her name making him feel untouchable. He felt on top of the world, like anything was possible. And then there _was_ Hermione; spiteful and haughty, throwing him dirty looks. He just wanted to grab her and force her to listen to him. Grab her and somehow make her stop treating him so cruelly. He was getting terribly worked up watching her search for mushroom. He looked up and noticed Harry walking off a ways up, out of view now, to find some water, he heard him mutter. He made his way over to her, cautiously. She glanced up, a sour look on her face, and then went immediately back to focusing on the fungi.

"Why don't you go look over there?" she growled, not even looking at him.

" 'Mione, I know you're upset. I feel awful. I'll never forgive myself for abandoning you like that. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't!" he clarified.

"I don't care, Ronald. It doesn't matter. Go back for all I care. Harry and I can manage just fine on our own."

"You don't mean that," he told her fiercely, taking her arm and spinning her around.

Herminone didn't reply at first, at least not with words. Her face looked hard as she looked to where his hand lay on her, and back to his eyes. "You don't think we could do it on our own?" she challenged, intensifying her glare.

Ron stared back, drawing her a step closer to him. "I don't think you'd want to. I don't think you'd like it if I left again. No matter how angry you might be with me…Harry told me..." he said, reaching for her other arm, "…I'm sorry I hurt you like that. I didn't know. I thought..." His voice was tender and fraught with memories.

Hermione's bottom lip quivered, giving away what her eyes refused.

"It doesn't matter," she said low and forcefully, locking her jaw now. She tried to turn from him and pull away from his hold. This was too much, she thought. Ron's grip only increased. "I know you don't mean that, Hermione. Last night proved that."

"Last night?" she asked with mocking ignorance. "I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that." She gave him a cool questioning look, prompting him to go on. "For one, I know the difference between holding you in dreams and holding you in real life, and last night was no dream…or accident if that's where you're going next. And second of all… you're a terrible liar, you know that?" Ron was not going down without a fight.

"Last night was nothing," she relented in a huff. She tore free from him, her hands waving wildly as she spoke. "It meant nothing, so just forget about it. I don't know what I was thinking. A moment of madness is all it was."

"Bollocks! You missed me. You need me, just like I need you. I know you Hermione…" He was really yelling now.

"No! You left. You obviously didn't care then, so why should I care now? Why should I go easy on you?!" She pointed spitefully at him every time she said 'you', emphasizing her point.

"I cared! Of course I care, Hermione. I…I—" He wanted desperately to tell her he loved her; that he would die without her, all the things he had thought about telling her for the past year now, especially since the night he left. But he couldn't. This wasn't how he pictured saying those words to her, not with her screaming at him in rage.

"There's nothing you can do, Ron. The damage is done and we can't go back. No one forced you to leave. As I recall it I even begged you to do the opposite. I guess I wasn't enough incentive to make you stay. If not for your guilt and shame, who knows where you'd be right now?"

"You can't honestly believe that. You're upset with me and I get that. But you know that isn't true. I mean of course I felt guilty about going. I'll never live down that shame, but mostly because it means I let you down. The worst thing I've ever done was leave you," he explained sincerely, wishing she wasn't turned away from him, so he could read her face. He heard her clucking her tongue and sighing hotly as he spoke and knew she was getting more and more wound up. "Come on, Hermione, say something. You're killing me here. Anything really— yell at me, just not this."

"You want me to yell at you? Okay, Ronald. How about this, would you like to hear what was going through my mind as Nagini thrashed around me that night, while I laid there, waiting to die, too paralyzed with fear to even move?" Ron moved toward her, his arms outstretched, attempting to wrap them around her, as his head shook back and forth; it wasn't easy for him to hear this. Hermione swatted his arms away, pulling out her wand in a threatening manner.

"Don't touch me," she ordered, backing away. Ron stood there with his arms still held out awkwardly, as though waiting for her to change her mind.

"Go ahead and hex me. It's not going to keep me away from you."

"As though you need any help. You keep away so well on your own." As Hermione finished she noticed a strange look come over Ron's face as though he understood something that he hadn't seem moments before. She tried to distract him by saying, "Don't think that I won't," while waving her wand toward him once. But her words only made Ron move closer, so she switched tactics. "As I was saying, I was lying there, feeling completely helpless, glass shattering down on me. I could feel Nagini close by and imagined her sinking her teeth into me, ending it all." She looked into Ron's troubled eyes, fighting back tears. His mouth was gaped and he looked slightly demented as he listened to her. He winced at the thought of Nagini's teeth cutting into her. "You don't have to stay and listen to this, you can go," she told him.

"No, I can't," he stated simply.

"I thought about you and how this might not have been happening at all if you hadn't left. I thought if you were there, we wouldn't be about to die. And I thought how odd it was because whenever I thought about the possibility of us dying in this war, I always thought we would go down fighting together. That's when I knew, that is, I understood…"

"What?" his voice shook with need.

"That I was wrong. I was wrong about you and I knew if I ever saw you again I would see things for what they really are, for what you really are." Her voice was indignant to conceal the lie.

"No," he said snapped disbelievingly, not excepting her claim.

"No?" she asked exasperated.

"I told you, you're a terrible liar." His eyes, which moments ago looked anguished, now held a blazing fire within them. His voice was also new, and the vehemence of how he spoke made her give an involuntary shiver; it didn't go without Ron's notice. In fact it was the single thing that drove him over the edge. "Really, you've left me no choice," he told her slyly, swiftly striding over to her, effortlessly pushing away the wand she still held in her hand. The next instant Ron had Hermione in his arms; one hand wrapped around her waist as the other held her chin, tilting it, just so, to give him access to her lips. He could feel her writhe in his arms even before he placed his mouth over hers, but it didn't deter him. He worked his mouth over hers vigorously and felt the cease of her movements quite suddenly as the rush of his lips worked over hers. She stood there, frozen, her hands raised above her as he continued to kiss her, and even though she was no longer fighting his advance, he held her to him with even more might, needing for her to return his affection. He breathed out hot air against her cheek, breaking for air. He whispered her name desperately in her ear, making a trail of kisses back to her mouth. When he captured her lips this time he parted them, his tongue seeking hers. This kiss was deeper and more impatient. He could feel Hermione's hands now grip into his shoulders and he wasn't sure if she was trying to fend him off again or submitting to the kiss at last. He heard her moan insatiably at the loss of contact on her lips when he pulled away just enough to catch his breath. He wasted no time, crushing his lips to hers again and feeling her mouth part easily for him now. Her arms wrapped securely around his neck and her hands ran through his hair, absentmindedly, driving Ron absolute mad. His arms engulfed her at her waist and he slowly ran his hands up and down her sides before lifting her off her feet. They kissed hungrily, greedy for more, hardly giving themselves enough time to catch their breaths.

"I knew you didn't mean it," he couldn't help breath out into her mouth, kissing her again. The violent shove caught him off guard and he stumbled backwards. The words appeared to have woken Hermione up. Ron didn't stand up right away, resting his hands on his knees; he tried to catch his breath. Hermione worked on regaining a normal breathing pattern as well, hastily bending down to retrieve her wand that she had let slip to the ground. When she looked back at him he was still bent over, but he was breathing easier and now grinning like an idiot, watching her glare at him. She raised her wand now. "Wipe that silly grin off your face, or I'll do it for you."

"Do your worst. It would still be worth it. Hermione wait!" he called after her frantically, as she ignored his response and began to walk away and he followed after her. She turned on him suddenly, after a few long minutes where Ron trailed right behind her.

"You think you can just...and all is forgiven? Well, you can't. All is most certainly not forgiven! Why did you have to do that?!" Her voice was angry, but there was an undertone of insecurity. Ron only noticed the anger and the fact that she was now crying.

"Don't be angry with me. Please— I won't do it again. Please don't cry 'Mione," he replied quickly, trying to alleviate the situation. Whatever needed to be said to make her hate him a little less he would say, if he only knew what she wanted to hear. He couldn't believe he had managed to make the situation even worse. She tried to control her voice and choke back her cries.

"Oh. Great then. Thank you. Because I would rather be forced to kiss Malfoy than kiss you again." She said the words in fury, upset that he had wanted to take the kiss back, angry, still, that he had left her. It seemed to shut him up, his expression contorted to one of agony and she looked away.

"It won't happen again," he bite out, wounded, brushing past her. She heard him curse under his breath and then he stopped, after only a couple steps, and turned to her once more; his face much gentler. "I'm very sorry, Hermione. Let's just pretend like it never happened. Just tell me what you need me to do. I can't take you hating me."

Hermione opened her mouth to give him another cruel retort but the sincere look on his face stopped her. "I think we ought to find Harry, don't you?" she asked and though it wasn't the answer Ron was hoping for, it was a start. He let Hermione take the lead as they followed Harry's path, from behind she couldn't see the grin spreading across his face, as he remembered the kiss they just shared, her taste still lingering in his mouth.

*** *** ***

Ron was miserable. He kissed her finally and it was a disaster. _Why did I do that? Why did I tell her he would never do it again? What do I do now?_ he questioned, wretchedly. He decided that it would be best if he acted like the whole occurrence never happened. He would simply work on getting on her good side and do everything in his power to show her he cared. That's why when Hermione suggested the Lovegood's, he overenthusiastically sided with her.

And after the close call at Luna's, (so maybe Hermione is not always right about these things) the days seemed to bleed into each other. He felt things seemed to be getting better between him and Hermione. The night was a different story all together. Every night Hermione stole into his bed, wordlessly wrapping herself in his arms. He never dared bring it up to her again and she carried on like it wasn't happening. Ron waited that night, counting the seconds and Harry's snores, impatiently waiting for the feel of her body against his. He began to grow anxious that she decided to stay in her own bed. He thought she might have already fallen asleep and he would have to do without her. As he sulked over the thought he felt cool air suddenly hit his skin as his blanket was pushed back. The next second he felt a great warmth pressing against him and Hermione was his again. Laying there in the still night, holding her to him, he thought she had fallen asleep, until she shifted so she was now facing him; a look in her eyes he couldn't quite distinguish. His mind traced back to their kiss and he held his breath, wondering if it was what was on her mind.

"Are you all right?" he whispered. It was the only thing he could think of, or at least felt safe saying.

He could see her shake her head in the darkness. "I had a bad dream," she admitted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice low in the darkness.

"I don't remember it much. There were Death Eaters. They were surrounding us and... and..." Her voice broke. Ron waited, anxiously. "And that's all I remember," she lied, not wanting to tell the part where she watched Ron get cursed and fall down before her, trying to protect her.

"It was just a dream. You're safe here. I won't leave you, Hermione. Never again. You can trust me," he told her vigorously.

"I know," she whispered, brushing the hair back from his face to be able to see his eyes clearly. After another long pause she added, "I don't hate you…in case you still..." she began remembering their conversation after the kiss.

Ron couldn't help but chuckle softly at the words. "I know, Hermione. But thank you for saying so."

"And what I was thinking that night, when I thought I was going to die, I wasn't thinking…those things about you…I mean I was thinking about you, but not…" She seemed to be struggling. "I'm just trying to say that I'm really glad you came back, that you're here." She was quiet for a moment and Ron thought she was falling asleep, but then he heard her soft whisper in his ear again. "I don't know how you can stay so positive and hopeful. Sometimes I..."

"I told myself if I ever made it back to you guys—when I made it back— I would do everything in my power not to let you down again."

Hermione silently examined his face, slowly, as though she was able to read all the hidden meanings in his features: the way he held his jaw, the shape his lips made, the furrow of his brow, and the depth of his eyes, all held inconsolable secrets, Hermione felt she understood. She softly leaned her face toward his and gently placed a kiss at the corner of his eye before turning back over and falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron messed with the radio like he did every night trying to find _Potterwatch, _while Hermione busied herself trying to tidy up the tent, as though it would do much good. His upbeat attitude was almost infuriating to Hermione who couldn't help feel discouraged and worried about their search. But standing there, watching the intensity on his face as he prodded his mind for the correct secret word, she found her temperament change instantly. She knew it was Ron the last few weeks who kept them going when they didn't think they could go on anymore. If she was really honest with herself she would admit the only infuriating thing was all the sexual tension filling the small tent. She knew she had to focus on their mission, but couldn't stop herself from focusing on his persuasive lips when he had another suggestion of where to look, or the way his arms moved animatedly when he was telling a story, or the way he smelled when he sat so close to her, or the warmth she felt at the touch of his skin. _Stop staring_, Hermione, she thought hastily, looking away and busying herself by polishing the table where half her books now lay. But it was too late, from the corner of her eye she saw a smile break out over his face as he studied her over.

"Any luck?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"Not yet," he replied, while turning the knob again. The static cut out and a soft pop song, Hermione recognized, suddenly took over the air waves. Ron began to sing along, playfully, making ridiculous faces that Hermione couldn't help laugh at. He began to move around, side stepping to the beat, his arms held out before him, as if he was dancing with an invisible partner.

"Nice moves. Been practicing?" she asked teasingly.

"Are you saying I didn't sweep you off your feet at Bill's wedding?" he asked aghast and then flashed her an adorable smile. She gave him a look debating the question as though she wanted to say no, squishing up her face and fluttering her hand in a so-so manner. Ron's jaw dropped as though he was now even more offended. "Oh, I've got moves, Hermione," he told her, closing in on her. "Perhaps I need to remind you."

"Oh no, keep back. Can't you see I'm busy?" she cried, backing away.

"You've been polishing that table for the last 15 minutes," he scoffed, which caused Hermione to throw the dirty rag at him. It landed on his face, concealing most of it and blocking Hermione from his view. Ron noticed his new look pleased Hermione because he could hear her start to giggle. She reached over, stifling her laugh, and pulled it off; while doing so, Ron grabbed a hold of her wrist and began dancing with her. She used the rag to swat him off, but only until Ron intertwined his fingers in hers, pinning the forgotten rag between them. He led her across the tent floor and then back again, twirling her as he continued to sing along. "Come on Hermione, sing with me."

"Have you been drinking Firewhiskey when I wasn't looking?"

"What? Can't a guy serenade his girl without being three sheets to the wind?" he asked without thinking. Hermione's eyes got wide and a blush spread across her face; For once she couldn't think of a witty reply and Ron still seemed unaware of his little slip. "I know you know this song. Just one line," he goaded.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed.

"I can always force it out of you," he told her in such a devious tone that Hermione was actually nervous. "It's over on your cot," he informed her when he saw her looking around for her wand. "Think you can reach it before?"

"Before?" she asked slowly, her eyes darting from Ron to her cot and then back again. She took her chances, diving onto her soft sleeping bag, kicking the small radio, that carelessly sat in her path, in her attempt to beat Ron. Her fingers scrambled over the surface, coming up empty handed. "No," she cried, realizing it wasn't there. In the background static rang out from the old radio and Ron was briefly sidetracked by it, worried it might have gotten damaged in the scrimmage, but only very briefly.

"Ha. I knew you'd try for it. It's on the chair over by the door," he explained victoriously, pinning her down and tickling her sides, a place she was severely ticklish. Hermione squirmed under him, erupting in a fit of giggles.

"Ron—stop—I. can't. breathe," she panted out between painful giggles.

"No, not until you say Ron Weasley is my king," he teased mercilessly.

"Ron! This…isn't…fun—funny!"

"Say it," he commanded her, drawing out his words. "Ow!" he cried out when she was able to knee him as one of her legs broke free. The more Hermione struggled, the more tangled up they became, but both were so lost in the struggle they didn't fully notice, at least on a conscious level.

"Ron Weasley cannot sing," she grunted out, before giggles again consumed her.

"Close but not quite. Is my king. Ron Weasley is my king," he singsonged. Ron felt Hermione's leg hitch up around his waist and his mind suddenly shut off, all the blood rushing to another place in his body. Hermione felt Ron relax over her and pushed off him with one hand, reaching behind her head with the other. Her hand landed on a sturdy metal object, which she knew instantly. She drew the object to her, rushing to sit up, a scathing look on her face to go with the Gryffindor Sword, which she now had pointed down at Ron, who was totally caught off guard by the action. In an instant, surprising him further, Hermione jumped on top of him, straddling him just below the waist, the sword in one hand by his head and the other pressing down on his chest. She was panting, trying to regain her breath; a look that could kill still drawn on her face. Ron didn't seem to notice the hostility due to the compromising position Hermione was putting him in.

"Now it's my turn," she told him, flashing the sword, seeking payback for the injustice done on her. Ron was just staring up at her with a suggestive look she had come to recognize. Her cold look melted into one of yearning as she eyed him, and a shudder ran through her as she felt Ron's hands lightly glide up her legs to her waist, where he planted them firmly. Hermione let go of the sword, and both her hands now gripped his t-shirt, as her face bent down toward his. Ron's hands moved up father to the small of her back, as she stretched out against him. Hermione clasped her hands behind his neck, her face lingering in front of Ron's temptingly. He let out a groan as Hermione's hands ran through his hair, and her lips repeatedly darted towards his mouth, only to be slightly pulled back at the last second.

" 'Mione, stop torturing me. I give. Whatever you want. I'll say anything," he begged. Hermione just smiled wickedly, thinking it over; her lips brushed over his once, provoking another agonized moan. "Hermione is my queen! Hermione is my queen!" he whispered frantically.

"Mmmm, not good enough," she whispered seductively in his ear.

"Oh, Bloody hell, Hermione, You'd be more merciful running me through with that sword right now than this. A man can only take so much," he exclaimed.

"How about Hermione is the cleverest, strongest, most brilliant witch I have ever the pleasure of knowing?" she teased him.

"You forgot stubborn, troublesome, and of course, the most beautiful witch I ever had the pleasure of knowing," he replied, the words catching her off guard.

"Well, I can do without the first two," she told him wryly and then pressed her eager lips to his. The kiss intensified quickly, a sense of urgency and longing felt within it.

"Ron, wait," Hermione gasped, after what could have been forever, breaking for air. He looked at her concerned. "We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong. Harry's—"

"Harry is on duty for at least another hour," he replied, crushing his lips upon hers again.

"He's right outside the tent!" she struggled to say through kisses.

"And I promise to keep this PG-13," he explained, kissing down her neck. Hermione had a hard time arguing when he was doing that so well. "Getting to second base, that's in the PG-13 vicinity, isn't it?" he asked distractedly, his hands already on the move.

"No," she told him after a few more minutes of snogging. "We can't do this right now. We are supposed to be helping Harry. We have a mission. We have a purpose. We cannot let our…urges take control of us," she resolved, but then went right on kissing him again the second she finished.

"Mmmhmm. You're absolutely right," he replied into her mouth.

It took some time before Hermione gained enough self control to truly put a stop to their impulsive actions. "No,no,no," she shouted, frustrated and with a little too much force, she pushed Ron off her, sending him toppling onto the floor, completely taken by surprise.

"Hermione!" Ron yell, confused, what is it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she told him apologetically for knocking him to the floor, "but we can't let ourselves get carried away. That can't happen again, not while we're still in the search." She finished, thwarting any hope Ron had that their tryst would be repeated any time soon. "Harry entrusted us with his plan, only us, and we can't let him down. When this is over then we can think about _us_, but it isn't fair to…I mean think of everyone putting their lives on the line while we just…Dumbledore, he died for our fight and we owe it to him—" Hermione sat tinkering with the sword by her side as Ron raised himself to his knees, and placed his hand on her leg, waiting for her to look him in the eye again.

"Yes, Dumbledore—the great Albus Dumbledore, but remember Hermione he was just a man when it comes down to it and I think he would want us to be happy—"

"Shhhh. Did you hear that?" she asked, nervously, "That voice?"

"It's probably just Harr—" Ron stopped talking when he realized what it was that was making the noise, the radio sitting by his feet was talking to them, a familiar voice now came over the airwaves. "We did it! It's on. Oh, brilliant. You'll love this," he told her enthusiastically, squeezing her hand. "I should get Harry," he added and ran to the entrance, shouting Harry's name. Hermione clumsily began cleaning the Sword of Gryffindor.

*

How quick it can happen; that the end is upon you. One minute, talking excitedly about what they just heard and then next minute they awaited the unknown terror that called to them from outside. They had no choice but to do as they were told. Ron gripped Hermione tightly to him as they followed Harry out. These weren't like the dimwitted, novice snatchers Ron happened upon before. These ones were the real deal and out for blood. Blood, which they got early as Ron refused to let Hermione go. They punched him roughly and kicked him on the ground. He could taste the blood filling up his mouth, but his only concern was getting back to Hermione. For a brief second the three each thought they might have caught a lucky break, maybe they could even talk their way out of this one, but the thought only lasted a second before the truth was clear to everyone there and the three were thrown together with the rest of the enemy party. Hermione wished she was at least able to sit next to Ron as they awaited their death, perhaps then she could at least hold onto his hand. Ron agonized over the same fact, turning his head past Harry, trying to keep Hermione in his sight.

Things only got worse when they reached the mansion. Ron thought his head would explode when they marched him away from her, leaving her there with Belatrix and Greyback, to fend for herself, while he was incapable of doing anything. All his promises to her, that he would keep her safe, gnawed at him, knowing he was failing her. He knew it was madness, knew it was of little use, but he couldn't help pound the hard solid walls holding him captive, while crying out for her. He thought if she could at least hear his voice, it might help give her some strength, reminding her that they were still there. His cries did in fact help her. Hermione could hear the terror and pain in Ron's voice and refused to give up. So she lied and she fought against the strangling pain, not sure what she was waiting for, but just buying as much time as she could get. She couldn't think of a way out of this mess, but knew she couldn't just give up, not with Ron's voice ringing out below her. But the pain was overwhelming and soon became all she was aware of. She thought she saw Ron charge into the room, but she decided it was more likely a hallucination; Before she could really process the image all thoughts of any possible rescue were extinguished, as her neck suddenly commanded all her attention. Belatrix's knife was cutting into her and her eyes rolled back; her body was beginning to give out on her. She fell in and out of consciousness. She heard multiple shouts and Belatrix's distinct shriek through the darkness. She opened her eyes for an instant and was positive Ron was really standing before her. Then she felt herself spinning downward as light danced behind her eyes, then there was darkness— nothingness again. _Ron_, she called out desperately, but only in her head; she felt a heavy weight pushing down on her and endless amounts of pain coursing through her. He seemed to hear her somehow, though no sound escaped her lips, for he was suddenly with her, holding her to him and telling her to hold on. The next thing Hermione was aware of was the lovely French voice of Fleur Weasley, as her soft delicate hands surveyed her body for damage.

"Ron?" Hermione called out in a weak panic, her eyes finding it hard to focus in the light.

"I'm here," he called from a short distance away. He was standing behind Fleur as she worked on healing Hermione, his hands knotted in his hair and his agonized look reflected how he felt inside as well. He lowered his hands and came closer. He had been afraid of getting in the way, so he held back, while Fleur healed Hermione. It was hard to keep a distance, but he didn't want to take any chances with doing something to hurt her. Hermione reached for him and it was all he needed. In a flash he was by her side, her hand clasped in his own.

*****

*

Okay that's it for chapter 4. I have at least 2 more to go. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Okay this is the final revised version. I feel better about it, but I'm sure its not perfect. If its not too much trouble please let me know what you think. Reviews fuel the writing process for sure. Thanks for reading!

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Chapter five____A Safe Place, a Forgotten Room, And a Beautiful View

"For a minute there, I thought that was going to be it," Hermione suddenly spoke in a raspy voice, causing Ron to jerk his head up.

"Hermione, you're awake! Maybe you shouldn't try talking just yet. Save your energy," he told her anxiously, as he saw her try to sit up.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked, ignoring his request.

"Not too long," he said, not resisting a wild strand of hair falling over her eye, "Fleur is just checking on the others. Do you want me to get her?" he asked, tucking the hair securely behind her ear. Hermione grabbed a hold of his hand.

"No— I just need you." Then after a moment of watching him nervously look her over she added, "You have to stop looking at me like that, as though I'm about to shatter into a million pieces. We made it, Ron. We're going to be okay—I'm going to be okay." He smiled at her reassurance, but it only lasted a moment, before his eyes darted down and he hid his face from her, as though ashamed. Then she saw his body convulse and a strangled sound rip out of him.

"Hermione, I was so…afraid," he choked out in a muffled sob, unable to hold it back any longer, everything he had been holding back and holding inside no longer able to be contained. "I thought I was going to lose you. I don't know what I would have done—" He said more than once, and then as quickly as his sob started, it ceased. Ron once again had control over himself. He tried to smile again, but it wasn't very convincing. Hermione sat up, ignoring the pain, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, rubbing his back. He wiped his eyes clean before returning the hug, but he was careful not to hold her too tightly. She began to kiss him: on the forehead, the cheek, the corner of his eye, his nose, his lips, as though kissing away the awful memory. She was still wrapped around him, her mouth close to his ear so that he could, both, hear and feel her take in a deep breath, so overwrought with emotion, that it caused him to hold his own breath in anticipation.

"I love you," she breathed out, soft but impassioned, the words she feared she would never get a chance to tell him, finally freed from her lips. "I love you— I love you—I love you—"she whispered quickly an urgently, making Ron's heart stutter as he listened, disbelievingly, to the sweetest words he ever heard. He took her face carefully in his hands, examining the depth of her eyes. "I love you, Hermione—"

"I know," she told him instantly, "I heard you at Malfoy's, when I was being tortured—"

"But I didn't say it, then," he replied confused, trying to think back.

"Not in those words, but I _heard_ you, Ron, when you called out my name. I heard it in your voice. I knew—"

"I've loved you for so long, Hermione. I should have told you ages ago. I should have been telling you so every day. Tonight opened my eyes— in so many ways. I never want to feel that helpless again. **You** can't do that to me again," he warned her, letting out a weak chuckle.

"It's not a situation I would ever like to repeat, trust me," she replied, somehow still able to smile.

"But you were brilliant, 'Mione. You really never do cease to amaze me. The way you came up with that story like that, while they were…" He couldn't finish his thought. "Do you know how brave you are?" he asked astounded. She just gave a shy smile before burying her face in his chest.

"It may sound childish, or inconsequential after the fact, knowing how things turned out, but I knew somehow you would find a way to get to me. I knew if I could just hold on, I would see you again."

"But I didn't," he admitted miserably, "We would have never gotten out of that cellar if Dobby didn't show up when he did. How he knew… I can't even think what would have happened..."

"No, no, don't you see? Dobby showing up gave you guys a way out, but you didn't hesitate for a minute once you were. I don't think you realize how brave you are yourself, Ron. You ran head on into danger without giving it a second thought, didn't you?"

"My only thoughts were of finding you and getting you the hell out of there, so I guess fear didn't have a chance to sneak in there just yet." His tone was a little lighter now as he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair. He did his best to fill her in on exactly what went down at Malfoy's. He told her about Dobby and she took it about as well as he expected her to. Fleur came back and tended to her wounds again. Hermione drifted in and out of sleep and Ron stayed by her until she asked him to go check on Harry to make sure he was okay. He left hesitantly, but Fleur promised to take good care of her, and assured him Hermione was doing very well.

*** **** ***

Hogwarts-

After Harry took off with Luna to look for the lost diadem, everyone else was left to try and find something useful to do, which left most people talking loudly, speculating, planning, and running around like mad. Ron pulled Hermione away from the chaotic cluster of people. An idea coming to mind that he wanted to share with her. He realized they had the cup and would soon hopefully have the Diadem, but it wasn't enough to simply possess them, they had to be destroyed, but with what? And that's when the idea struck him; the Chamber of Secret. Hermione looked at him curiously as he pulled her away; for a second she thought he was going to try and kiss her.

"I think we should go back to the Chamber of Secrets. There are Basilisk fangs still up there, eh? We need to destroy these Horcruxes, not present them to You-Know-Who when he gets here." Hermione took his extended hand and they were off. When Ginny asked them where they were sneaking off to, she heard Ron muttered something about a bathroom.

Ron made a quick detour, grabbing a broom, realizing they needed to save as much time as possible and flying would be faster than running. Hermione eyed him wearily, but climbed on behind him without an argument. She clung to him for dear life as they zoomed through the winding corridors and passages to their destination.

*

"I'll hold it and you stab it," Ron instructed, handing her a fang and then gripping the cup tightly with both his hands. "And you want to do it quickly, trust me," he added, lowering the cup for a moment, making sure she was paying attention. Then he stepped toward her, holding the cup out like he was a matador provoking a bull with the muleta, giving her a good target. Hermione's arm went back, ready to plunge the fang with all her might. As her hand started to snap forward she suddenly stopped, dropping her hand in confusion. Ron's face was reddening and he looked like he was struggling; the cup was slipping lower in his hands as his arms sank downward, as though something was pushing down on them.

"Ssstaaabbbiiitttt, nnnoowww," he struggled to say. He was now holding the cup at his knees. Hermione peered over the cup and saw that it was now full of a gold color liquid, the weight of which, Ron could not hold easily. Hermione's arm flew back once more in alarm, ready to strike, but before she had the chance Ron gave a violent jerk and was suddenly hovering above her, the cup was still clutched in his hands. Ron appeared to be drowning in water, as he floated suspended in midair. Hermione realized in horror that the liquid filling the cup was jinxed. The effect of which made the person who held the cup drown, as though by the liquid inside. She assumed it was all happening now as a response to the Horcrux sensing danger, like the diary and she suspected the locket as well.

"Drop it!" she yelled up at him, but he shook his head vigorously; whether he couldn't let go or was afraid of losing it if he did, Hermione couldn't be sure. She had to find a way to destroy it before Ron was a goner. "Hold on!" she instructed up to him. She acted quickly, not hesitating a second, as she grabbed the discarded broom and flew toward Ron, who hung effortlessly above her, still gasping for air. Her one hand gripped the broom for dear life, while her other hand was stretched out, holding the fang tightly, as she aimed directly for the cup that swung limply in Ron's right hand. The fang ripped into the golden cup, causing Hermione to nearly fall off the broom as she jerked backwards. The second the fang pierced Hufflepuff's cup Ron was released from the spell. He only fell a fraction of a second, his quick keeper reflexes kicking in, as he reached out for the broom handle and latched on to it. The broom veered for the ground and Ron used his feet to stop it from crashing. Hermione slid off the broom and into his arm in one swift fluid motion, breathing heavily and her adrenaline pumping steadily. Ron smiled at her encouragingly, and realizing what she just did, she smiled back in amazement.

"That was wicked, Hermione," Ron told her approvingly.

"You could have told me it was going to attack us," she breathed out, exasperated, still hugging him tightly.

"Believe me—if I had known it was going to do _that_, I would have better prepared you. Way to handle a broom," he added reverently, picking up the cup with his free hand and examining it to make sure it was finished.

"We should get back to the others," she said quickly, understanding that they couldn't afford to waste time. They collected up as many fangs as they could carry and got back on the broom. Ron wrapped one hand around Hermione, who sat in front of him this time, carefully cradling the fangs she collected.

"Ready?" he asked. She turned back for a second, finding comfort in his adoring smile and twinkling blue eyes. She tilted her head up quickly, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Ready!" she exclaimed, turning forward again, and then they were off.

*** **** ***

After the smokes clears (the war is over)

It was over, but they still had such a long way to go. No one was ever more exhausted, but none could sleep, as the tragedy of the night refused to fade in the break of daylight. The dead had all now been recovered and families and friends tended over them still, grieving for their losses. In all corners of the Great Hall people huddled together, talking and holding onto one another. The Weasley family gathered together, taking over the end of one of the dining tables, still standing in the wreckage. Ginny sat with her head resting on her Mother's shoulder, Bill consoled his wife, rubbing her back soothingly, Percy and George huddled together, looking the most shook up over their loss, and Mr. Weasley, having a hard time keeping still, paced back and forth as though still guarding his family from any possible danger.

Ron made his way through the crowded room, back to his family, his fingers intertwined with Hermione's, who he had to tow along with him now, an expounding yawn escaping her lips. No one said anything or asked any questions as he sat down, hooking one leg over the bench, and then pulling Hermione to him so that she sat between his legs. She leaned back into his chest and closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her slowly. George gave him a proud smile when he caught Ron planting a tender kiss into Hermione's hair. Ron returned the smile, trying to convey so many things in the gesture. So many conflicting feelings filled him; they had suffered so much—so many losses—but they still had so much to be grateful for. He felt guilty for being happy; happy that he had made it when his brother did not—Happy that he still had Hermione, and a future, when Tonks and Lupin did not.

*~

"Will you come with me?" He had asked her, squeezing her hand. Around them, in the late hours of the night, there were still people who continued to search for friends and loved ones, others were carrying in the last lingering lost souls, and many just grouped together for comfort and support; all dealing with the aftermath of the war. Ron and Hermione did their part to help, needing to feel useful and to occupy their minds. Ron watched Hermione and sensed that she needed to get away from the mournful sight for a bit, though she would never have admitted it. There was also something else on his mind that he felt could not wait. Hermione simply nodded her head to his question before he led her away. He took her a ways away, towards a part of the castle that was left unharmed by the battle destruction. He wanted her to see something beautiful, so he took her to one of the high towers that faced away from the battle scene, where the sun was rising gloriously over the new day. The sight seemed to have the right affect on her, calming her and raising her spirits. She smiled warmly at him, bathing in the sunlight that shone across her face.

"We made it—it's tomorrow," said Hermione, looking up at the sky. "Thank you for bringing me up here. It's beautiful."

"It kinda gives you hope," he agreed, "But I do have an arterial motive for bringing you here, 'Mione— What?" he asked incredulously, watching her try to conceal her conspicuous smile.

"Nothing—I just always loved how you call me that. It always made me feel special, even if it only came about out of laziness to say **all** four syllables of my name," she teased.

"That may be how it came about, but that's not why I say it," he informed her. She looked at him curiously, waiting for him to explain. "It was kind of my little way of claiming you to me. When it comes down to it, I was just being possessive. **My**-o-knee; it was like I was saying you were mine every time I said it." Hermione beamed at him, the words overcoming her, as she leaped into Ron's arms. "That's what I heard," she whispered, kissing him. When Ron lowered Hermione back to the floor, he knew it was time.

"Here," he said leading her to a bench that had a better view of the lake. He thought it would be better if she was sitting down. After they sat down he took her hands in his.

"Hermione, there is so much I want to say to you. I wish I could better explain how it is you make me feel. I just know I can't image a life, any life, without you in it. For one, it would just be ungodly dull. Who else would keep me on my toes and put me in my place...show me the error of my ways…whenever I have the occasion of making them?"

Hermione listened enraptured by the moment, her eyes glistening as she softly laughed at his charming speech.

"I know you'll want to finish school first and I know we don't really have any clue what to expect in the future, and everything around us is bound to change after last night, but I know wherever the future leads me or however it happens from here on out, the only thing I really need for certain is you. So, there's something I want to give you—a token if you will—to show you exactly what you mean to me…" He told her and then pulled out his wand shouting, "Orchideous." Suddenly thousands of dazzling flower petals softly floated down on them. Hermione was so distracted by the sight she didn't notice right away that Ron had slid off the bench, pulling a small sack out of his pocket, as he raised himself up on his knees. She looked down at him, trying to make sense of them moment and what he was holding out to her. She took the small bag and opened it like he instructed. Before she could peek inside, Ron's hands closed over hers, as though he changed his mind.

"Close your eyes," he said taking the bag out of her hand. She felt his hand lightly holding her fingers out and then something slipped onto her finger and Hermione couldn't breathe.

"Open your eyes, 'Mione," he whispered adoringly. She stared at the stunning ring on her finger for a long moment before her watery eyes reached his.

"Will you marry me?" he asked boldly.

"Yes!" she shrieked—starling them both—and threw her arms around him. He couldn't stop kissing her in sheer bliss….

"It's beautiful, Ron. But how on earth did you just happen to have it. Where did you—?" she asked curiously, admiring the elegant ring. Ron played with her hand, examining the way it looked so lovely on her.

"It's been in my family for a very long time. Aunt Muriel had been keeping it safe, hoarding it with a bunch of other pricey family heirlooms, that haven't seen the light of day since the turn of the century," he mused sarcastically. Hermione bite her lip so as not interrupt Ron as he explained. "For some reason she decided to give it to Bill to give to Fleur. I think Bill's secretly her favorite and what happened to him with Greyback—well even Muriel has a heart. But Bill knew the ring he gave Fleur was the right one and that this one, as sentimental and beautiful as it is, wasn't meant for them. He held on to it though, the man isn't an idiot, and Muriel never noticed Fleur's ring wasn't the same. When we were at Shell Cottage Bill took me a side one day and handed it to me. He said he saw the way I looked at you and the way we were with eachother, and he realized then who that ring was really intended for. As though the ring sought us out, even. He said I should hold on to it; that it would help me remember what I was fighting for. I've had it with me ever since." He paused and for a long moment they just sat there letting the moment rush over them. Then Ron said, "I know we're young and it might seem to others like we're just letting ourselves get swept up in the momentum of these times, and maybe there is truth in that, but honestly I just don't care. I want to be with you…I want everyone to know I'm yours."

"And I'm yours." She repeated back, "But you are right about finishing up school; it has to come first and I think you should consider coming back as well, if we can get this place in order by then that is."

"We'll get this old place running again and you'll be top of your class, don't even worry," he told her, kissing her forehead. She noticed he didn't mention anything about his return, but thought she would breach that subject at a later time. They watched the sun rise, the deep pink slowly fading away, revealing the blue sky that stretched on for forever, before they headed back down to the Great Hall.

*

Ron stared around the Great Hall, flashes from last night vivid in his memory as his thumb rubbed over the rock on Hermione's left hand, reminding him of their future. He wondered where Harry had wandered off to and if he was doing alright. He still couldn't fully grasp the events that took place only hours before, or how his friend was still with them. Then as though answering his question Ron heard Harry's voice asking him and Hermione to follow. They immediately responded to their cloaked friend; so many questions they had that needed answers, gaps to be filled, but also a best friend they had to simple be there for; relieved they still had the chance. In the end, it was the three of them, the unstoppable trio, who overcame the pure essence of evil, together.

--the end


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